


Building a Home

by SalazarTipton



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Bonding, Foster's Ranch, Gen, Getting Back Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secrets, first home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:32:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalazarTipton/pseuds/SalazarTipton
Summary: “I wanted to give you the offer long before the Air Force.” Michael’s head whips to the side to look at him properly.“You want to sell me the ranch?”





	1. only place that's ever been a home

**Author's Note:**

> what farmer or rancher trusts the government?  
> none.  
> you can blame christi for encouraging me to write this 💙💙💙

Michael pulls up to the barn right before sunrise and shuts off the engine. The clouds way out on the other side of the pasture are starting to turn a warm pink. He takes a sip from his Thermos as he watches them roll and change shape. Mr. Foster comes up to his driver side, tipping his hat at him. 

“Mornin’ Mikey.”

He sends him a nod in greeting before stepping out of his truck. 

“Before we get started, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?” 

They talk enough just to make the work go faster. He knows the ins-and-outs of the Fosters’ lives, his favorite football team, and all about his grandkids. Michael can’t imagine what he’s got to say to him that seems so pressing unless it’s bad news. He’s had enough ‘sorry but we have to let you go’ talks in his life, but this doesn’t feel like one. 

“The Air Force came poking around here the other day asking if the place was f’r sale. Now, you know me and I don’t trust them an inch, so I sent ‘em packin’ but they’ll be back. I’ve had a good life out here and I got enough to move closer to the kids up in Arizona with the Dolly. You’ve been good to me these past few years, Michael, and that ain’t gone unnoticed,” Mr. Foster says. 

Michael leans back against his truck trying to figure out what the old man’s trying to get at. He’s never minded how long winded he can be expect when he’s getting to something important and he’s gotta walk you a mile around first. The sun’s starting to come up now. 

“I wanted to give you the offer long before the Air Force.” Michael’s head whips to the side to look at him properly. 

“You want to sell  _ me _ the ranch?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, boy. You’ve been a fixture ‘round here for as long as I’ve known you. I don’t see no point in stopping that now. I understand if you don’t have the funds right now, but I’m sure we can work something out--that is, if you’re interested.”

Instead of putting on words about how much Mr. Foster’s trust in him means, especially when his own family still just sees him as a fuckup, Michael holds out his hand. Mr. Foster laughs and gives it a firm shake. 

“Alright, Mikey, alright. Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get to work.”

It takes a few weeks, a lot of talk over a few bottles of whiskey, and Noah writing up the contract, but soon enough Mr. Foster and Dolly are all packed up and Michael has the deed to the land in his own name. For the first time in his life, he owns something stationary and solid. When he first bought his truck, he saw it as his escape out of all the damn group homes and away from abusive assholes. When he bought the Airstream, he saw it as finally getting something to call his own with walls and a bed--something a hell of a lot closer to a house than anything he ever knew--and it was all his to do with what he pleased. 

But having a house and a business? Having not just land, but  _ his land _ . This swath of desert that’s been the closest thing to a home he never knew he thought he’d get isn’t just a place to come escape to and hope; it’s going to be his home. 

He walks inside the nearly empty house with soft footsteps as if the tapping of his boots against the wood will make this mirage disappear. The Fosters didn’t wanna bring all their furniture pieces with them so the rooms don’t quite have the empty echo of stark, new places and he’s grateful for it. His fingers brush over the worn wood of the kitchen table as he walks on through to the living room, remembering the first time Dolly made him come inside from the heat for a drink and some shade. He may not have spent much time in the house, but he still knows his way around from the little projects Mr. Foster pawned off on him from the list his wife started each Spring with ideas of how to fix the place up. 

The built-ins he did this past winter are still in the living room as bare as the day he finished staining them. As he goes on into the study, he checks the wall behind the door, and sure enough, there’s a new dent in the drywall in the same spot he fixed last time he was over when he told them to invest in door stoppers. As he takes in the house, he can’t help laughing to himself. 

Michael’s seen happy tears in his life: when Max decided to stay with them, at Isobel’s wedding, when they were reunited after Michael was re-homed here in Roswell at twelve. He knows they’re possible, but he’s never experienced them until now. He rubs at the wetness on his cheeks a little harshly. He can’t stop the grin forming on his lips. 

Michael Guerin owns a home. 

After taking another once around inside, he steps out onto the porch and settles into the lone rocking chair. He’s alone way out here so he doesn’t think twice about focusing on the beer he knows is just inside his trailer that’s now parked in the driveway beside his truck. One of the little windows slides open just far enough for the bottle to slip out and float on over to him. He grabs it out of the air and twists off the cap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alex will be coming up in the next part along with isobel's taste in decorating. poor michael 😂😂


	2. not everything changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel comes out the next day and starts taking measurements. He has no sense of interior design, according to her, but what can you expect from a guy that’s never had a sturdy place to live or enough money to splurge on throw pillows? So Michael let’s her have her fun especially since she claims most of the things she has in mind are from her storage anyway and won’t cost a thing.

Michael wakes up with the sunrise and stretches out in his small bed. He knows there’s a reason he needs to get up, but he can’t place it through the fog of sleep in his mind. He’s warm and comfortable. He blinks a few times, trying to convince his eyelids to stay open long enough for him to concentrate. Instead, they slip closed again, bringing him back to his dreams.

“I brought bagels!”

He rubs a calloused hand down his face.  _ Right _ . That’s why he needs to get up. Michael snatches a flannel shirt off of the floor and throws it on before heading outside. Isobel is leaning against her car, aviators pulled up on the top of her head. 

“It has potential,” Isobel says as she takes a slow spin in the center of the living room.

Michael shakes his head at her and leans against the wall, turning his focus to the everything bagel with far too little cream cheese and a hell of a lot more hot sauce in his hand. “Yeah?” he asks with his mouth full. 

She makes a face at his manners, but continues on nonetheless. He indulges her as she comments on the wallpaper, flooring, window size, and just about everything else in his new house. By the end of it he’s just nodding along with whatever comes out of her mouth, hoping he can get out to the barn in at least an hour.

“I’ll need your help getting some of the things in mind out of storage,” she says as they finally walk out onto the porch. 

“Sure thing. Just call me, though I’ll probably be busy in the field until this afternoon.” 

She smiles at him and presses a quick kiss to his cheek before heading over to her car. There’s a kick in her step he hasn’t seen in a while that he can’t help, but smile at. Isobel’s always happier when she has a project to flex her creative muscles with. 

By the time he makes it out to work, the other ranch hands--Michael stops in his tracks. They aren’t the  _ other ranch hands _ anymore; they are  _ his  _ ranch hands. He’s worked beside them for years now. It was always just the four of them working hard, joking around, and pulling in their paycheck. He doesn’t want things to change between them, but how can they not? Mr. Foster didn’t offer them up the land (that he knows about) and he hopes none of them feel slighted… 

He tips his hat to them and falls in as he always has, corralling the sheep and not letting himself hope for the best. Eddie nods back at him before handing off the reins, so to speak. He lets out a puff of air and steps into his new role. The day passes on by as fast as it normally does with the sun beating down on them and the occasional chorus of baas putting a halt in their easy conversation until they can properly hear each other again. When the sun’s just passed overhead, Michael tugs off his hat and wipes the sweat off of his face with his shirt. 

“How ‘bout one of you heads into town to grab us some lunch, on me?” he asks. 

Diego slaps him on the back with a smile. “My man! I’ll go. The Crashdown sound alright?”

He heads off with their orders and Michael’s cash. Eddie and Jessica make their way back to the barn for some shade and water. He decides to head back into the house and grab them some beers. They’ve done enough today that taking some of the afternoon off won’t throw off their flow tomorrow so it’ll be no harm done. Besides, he wants some way to thank them for going on business as usual instead of making a fuss about everything. 

When he gets inside, Michael takes a second to appreciate how cool the house stays during the day: perks of being built for the desert. He ducks his head under the kitchen faucet for a minute for a drink before letting the water run over his face, washing away the sticky feel of sweat and grime the morning’s work adorned him with. When he hears someone coming up the drive, he hastily wipes away the water. Diego must have forgotten something, he thinks, but looking out the window makes his stomach sink. 

It isn’t Diego’s truck pulling up behind his trailer. 

Michael swings open the screen door, ready to shout the goddamn military off of his property is he has to. The Airman turns around at the sound of the door banging against the house. All the fight leaves him instantly.

“Alex…”

“Guerin? I wasn’t expecting you here,” Alex admits. He shifts, putting a little more weight on the crutch. 

“What were you expecting then? This  _ is  _ my house.” Michael can’t help but let a snide tone leak into his words.

“You live here?” Alex’s disbelief stings.

“Is it really that hard to believe?”

Alex shakes his head and tries to get them off this track that’s doomed to leave them fighting. He has a reason he came out here in the first place and Guerin isn’t it. 

“I’m here on behalf of the United States Air Force,” Alex states. 

Michael leans back on the heels of his boots as he watches him change from man to  _ Airman _ before his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> both of them were just having an average day on their job until the universe decided to throw them a freaking curve ball to the face...


	3. but some things do change...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Guerin. And as much as Alex prides himself on doing his job well, he’s never stood a chance against this man in any aspect of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little bit of alex POV c:

Being sent out to the Foster Homestead Ranch to talk some country old man into selling his land to the government sounded like a hard enough task when Alex was giving the orders this morning, but now that he’s out here, he knows it’s impossible because this isn’t some worn down rancher on the edge of retirement, like he’d been promised. This is Guerin. And as much as Alex prides himself on doing his job well, he’s never stood a chance against this man in any aspect of his life. 

The last he heard about him, Maria had mentioned him practically living at the Wild Pony drinking and picking fights. She never said anything about this...well, not really. She definitely made a comment about the trailer currently parked in the driveway right beside Guerin's same old pickup. 

“The Air Force is interested in--”

“When have you ever known me to care about what the damn Air Force wants?” Michael scoffs. 

Alex swallows down his want to defend what he’s based his life on knowing full well that with Guerin standing in front of him, all his accomplishments and medals feel sour when he can see wisps of what he could have had if he’d stuck around New Mexico all those years ago. 

He watches Michael take a pull from one of the beers he opened the door holding before an all-too-familiar glint starts shining in his eyes. “But maybe I should thank Uncle Sam for sending you my way?” 

He bites down the smile his lips are trying to pull up into and leans into him professional persona. “Guerin, I’m here on official business. This offer I’m giving you--” Alex cuts himself off when Michael raises an eyebrow at his phrasing. He can feel Guerin’s cowboy swagger getting exaggerated more and more the longer they keep talking. He’s leaning against the house with his hips tilting towards him, belt buckle on full display and his shirt rucked up just enough for him to see a small sliver of skin and body hair. Alex swallows and tries to power through on the reason why he’s here. 

“They want to buy the land from you.”

Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, I figured that out all on my own when Foster straight up told me about it before  _ I bought it.  _ Too bad it’s no longer for sale.” The flirty warmth that was only just enveloping his words is long gone. Alex can tell he’s dead set on this, but he can’t help pushing him. 

“They--we’re offering a hell of a lot more than it’s worth, Guerin. It’s easy money and will get you a lot farther than running this place ever will. What’s so important about a bunch of sheep compared to that?”

“And what’s so important about it that the United States Air Force is willing to throw so much money away to get it? Or, wait, that’s classified, right? Please,” Michael draws out the last word, “how do you think all the conspiracy theorists and ufologists will respond to the government buying up the land the crash was on?” 

“The crash? Seriously?” Alex laughs. He can’t help it. Growing up in Roswell, you skirt far away from the tourist crowd looking out for spaceships while still knowing they’re what keeps the economy going around here. Sure, maybe as a teen he let himself wonder about other worlds less shitty than this one...and maybe Michael did too, but they aren’t kids anymore. “I’m sure this is just the easiest bit of nowhere for them to get their hands on, Guerin. Nothing more to it than that.”

Michael’s jaw clenches at his words and Alex notices how he’s stiffened. 

“Alex--Sorry,  _ Captain _ , I think your business is done here. Land’s not for sale and it’s never going to be as long as I’m around here.” 

He moves to walk past him, but freezes in place when Alex’s hand wraps around his bicep. Michael turns his face towards his to look him in the eye. They’re just a few inches apart and they way Alex’s eyes drift down to Michael’s lips is like a blaring, neon sign. 

“The Air Force tends to get what they want, Guerin. I don’t want you getting caught up on the wrong end of it.”

“Wrong end? Damn, Alex. You really have changed, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading this! i already have so many ideas and would love to hear what you think down in the comments or over on tumblr (bialiencowboy).


End file.
